Because Poop is Funny

My son gave new meaning to the term “shit-eating grin” yesterday.

I’d set him down on the kitchen floor with some toys in the hope that I could cross a few things off my to-do list. He was nude — I like to give him plenty of nappy-free time to let his nether regions air out.

A minute or so after sitting down at the computer, I glanced over to make sure he was OK. He has an uncanny knack for finding dangerous and disgusting things, so I’ve learned not to take my eyes off him for too long.

When I looked over, I saw him on his hands and knees, encircled by toys. His adorable little backside was pointing towards me. Awww.

The room was dim, and it took me a moment to register that — in addition to the toys — there were several unidentified brown blobs around him.

“What the bloody hell has he found now?!” I thought.

And then I noticed the brown goo oozing out from between his butt cheeks.

Shit.

My brain made the connection between what was emerging from his bum and the mysterious brown blobs surrounding him.

Oh shit.

I launched myself across the kitchen. He turned towards me, and I saw faeces all over his tiny hands.

He grinned at me. A great, big, shit-smeared grin.

Horrified, I grabbed him and rushed to the bathroom sink while furiously pulling his hands away from his mouth. He was determined to get a second helping and responded to my preventative measures with angry shrieks.

As I tried to eradicate all traces of excrement from his face and body, my mind raced: E. coli, uncontrollable diarrhoea, dehydration, and death.

I don’t mind him eating the odd dust bunny or dead fly — I figure they provide good exercise for his developing immune system. But poo? Poo can’t be good.

After washing him, I shoved a boob in his face, hoping that breast milk would clean his mouth out and dilute whatever had made its way to his stomach. I madly Googled as he fed.

Dr. Google laid my fears to rest. It’s relatively common for babies to eat their own poo and normally there’s no harm done (except to their poor parents’ nerves).

I kept an eye out for anything unusual, but aside from being less settled than usual last night — tummy ache? — he was fine.

This morning, as I was changing his dirty nappy, he reached down and grabbed a big handful of shit.

He’s never done that before.

Maybe he’s developed a taste for it. Maybe all of the excitement and attention he generated with yesterday’s antics served as a behaviour-reinforcing reward.

Or maybe, as Frank from It’s Always Sunny said, it’s simply “because poop is funny.”